


KINKtober Ficlets

by Bohemienne



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 1930s, Anal Sex, BDSM, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bucky Talks Dirty, Choking, Daddy Kink, Danger Kink, Dirty Talk, Do As Peggy Says, Dom Steve Rogers, Dominatrix Peggy Carter, Edgeplay, F/M, Frottage, Gunplay, Knifeplay, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Light Masochism, Light Sadism, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Public Sex, Rimming, Sappy, Shibari, Spanking, Steve Rogers's Danger Kink, Sub Bucky Barnes, Under-negotiated Kink, Waxplay, World War II, awkward wartime polyamory, winter soldier sex fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-18 22:06:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8177830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bohemienne/pseuds/Bohemienne
Summary: A collection of Kinktober prompt fills for Kinktober 2016. Multiple ships/fandoms, but will probably be at least 75% Stucky. Feel free to submit a day + prompt from the list!





	1. Spanking + World War Threesome

**Author's Note:**

> [FULL PROMPT LIST](http://starandshield.tumblr.com/post/151153774743/kinktober)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Feel free to [send me a request](http://starandshield.tumblr.com/ask)!

**Day 1: Spanking + World War Threesome  
**

“The problem,” Peggy mused, pacing slowly behind them, “is that neither one of you has any respect for authority.”

She paused her pacing with a click of heels to admire the scene before her. Her captain and her sergeant were both prostrate on the bed before her, pale rumps exposed to her, resting on their haunches. Peggy reached out and ran one gloved hand over Steve’s ass, and he exhaled with a soft whimper.

“I wouldn’t take it personally, ma’am,” Bucky said wryly. “Steve Rogers hasn’t had respect for authority since he knew how to spell the word.”

Peggy arched one eyebrow. “Did I ask you, Sergeant?”

He swallowed; beside him, Steve laughed under his breath. “N-no, ma’am.”

Peggy tilted her head to one side as a tiny grin spread on her face. Without lifting her left hand from Steve’s ass, she flexed her right, the thin leather glove creaking as she did so. “I worry your band of miscreants have given you a false sense of immunity, gentlemen. For all that we allow you to operate as you please … you still report to _me_.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve said, and moments later, Bucky echoed him.

“What was that?” Peggy raised her right hand. “I’m afraid I didn’t _hear_ you, Sergeant.”

Her right palm struck Bucky’s rump with a satisfying _crack_ , and he grunted, rocking forward. She left her hand where it landed, and curled her fingertips into his flesh. Whatever they were putting in the Brookyln water, she thought, caressing Steve’s rump for a moment, it was certainly working.

“I said ‘Yes, _ma’am_.’” Bucky’s tone was huskier this time, and Peggy’s smile deepened.

“And you, Captain. You aren’t some undisciplined NCO mouthing off in pubs. Our poor sergeant here, he has some training to do still. But _you_ are supposed to be an exemplar.” She rubbed her left hand along his rump, twisting her fingers into that lab-grown hunk of perfection. “It’s a wonder you bloody idiots didn’t get each other killed years ago.”

“Not for lack of trying,” Steve said. “—Ma’am.”

She laughed, low, and drummed her fingers against him before rearing back and striking. Steve cried out. Quickly, she lifted up her hand to admire the bright red print before it faded almost instantly. Bloody serum.

“From now on,” Peggy said, “I want you boys listening to me. No more running off half-cocked.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve said.

“Full-cocked only, ma’am,” Bucky said.

Peggy struck them both at once, drawing a very satisfying chorus of smacked skin and stifled grunts. “I suppose I did walk into that one.” She smoothed her hands over both of their asses with a delighted smirk. “But if we’re understood …”

She struck Steve first, fingers spread wide, then, bracing herself, swung at Bucky. No holding back. They’d seen her punch plenty of men, but even then they didn’t know what she was capable of. With a deep breath, she bit her lower lip and took one last look at the blotches of red, then trailed her hands up both of their muscular backs and tangled her hands in their hair. Crawling onto the bed on her knees, her silk slip riding up, she pried Steve up by his golden hair and brought his face toward hers. Her gaze swept up and down his face—the blue eyes, pupils wide; the fine nose; the hungry lips.

“A-any other orders, ma’am?” he asked.

She sank her teeth into his lower lip, then slowly tugged back until it slid free. He closed his eyes with a groan. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

Peggy yanked Bucky’s head up now and studied him. He arched one eyebrow, returning an appreciative gaze. Where Steve was stoicism and composure carved into an officer’s suit, Bucky was disheveled, chaotic; sweet mercy, but she craved them both. She leaned in and kissed Bucky, mouth crushing against his, her tongue grazing his teeth before she pulled away.

“All right, darlings.” She released their hair, then reached for their hands and linked their fingers together. They both leaned eagerly into the invitation, and Bucky nipped at Steve’s marble-carved shoulder with a smirk. “I think you’ve learned your lesson.”

Bucky slid his free hand around her waist and pushed her down into the mattress. Gently, one hand gripping Bucky’s hip, Steve straddled Peggy and lowered his head to swirl his tongue against her collarbone. “Then with all due respect, ma’am, I think it’s our turn.”


	2. Dirty Talk + Stucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Kinktober Day 2: Dirty Talk
> 
> Takes place in post-Deprogramming-verse, I guess?
> 
> [Send me requests!](http://starandshield.tumblr.com)

**Day 2: Dirty Talk + Stucky**

 

Steve’s communicator beeps around hour three of the logistical and strategizing session with Wakanda’s security forces. No one else hears it but Steve—they’re too busy arguing over the exact wording of some obscure subsection of the Sokovian Accords—so he thumbs the comm on and slides it into his ear. “Steve here,” he says under his breath.

“Yes, I know. I called you directly,” Bucky’s voice says in his ear. Steve catches himself grinning at Bucky’s sleepy drawl. He can almost see him still curled up like a cat in the downy bedding of their suite several floors away. “When are you coming back?”

Steve glances back toward where the ministers and generals are arguing. Even King T’Challa’s propped his feet up on his table and crossed them at the ankles, his expression one of barely contained impatience. “Don’t know. We’re still deciding whether or not to report the incident to the task—”

“Booo-ring,” Bucky says. “You should come back to bed.”

Steve fights back his widening smile. “And why would I do that?”

“Because my ass is still sore from the pounding you gave me two nights ago, and I think it’s my patriotic duty to return the favor.”

Steve raises one eyebrow. Bucky had certainly looked gorgeous spread out before him, pulled into Steve’s lap, Bucky’s knees against his chest, grunting each time Steve thrust Bucky’s hips back onto him. “As tempting as that is . . . I need to get back to this meeting.”

“No. Wait.” There’s a rustle on the other side as Bucky shifts in bed. “Just leave the comm on.”

“Buck . . .”

“Please,” Bucky says, softer. “I miss you.”

Steve squares his jaw. He knows exactly the face Bucky’s making right now, his doey eyes belying his wicked tongue as he runs it over his teeth. “Fine. But I’m working.”

“Are you sure? You mean you’re not at all thinking about me pinning your arms over your head and sucking at your earlobe? Coz I am,” Bucky says.

Steve’s stomach tightens, but he doesn’t respond; just shifts in his chair and waits for the ministers to finish their debate.

“And you know how I love to bite at those ripe titties. Mainly because it makes you squirm,” Bucky says, “but they are just so damn juicy.”

Steve suppresses a laugh. It makes him do a whole lot more than squirm, he thinks. Bucky’s warm mouth swishing against his nipple never fails to send a jolt of electricity straight through him.

“But the best part is rolling you onto your stomach and putting my knee into your back to hold you still. I like getting a good look at that tight pink hole of yours, after all.” Bucky makes a shivering sigh that crackles in the earpiece. “Not as much as I like stretching it open with my metal fingers, though.”

The strangled whimper Steve makes earns him a raised eyebrow from T’Challa. “Captain?” T’Challa asks. “Do you have a suggestion?”

“N-no, your highness. Just listening.”

T’Challa smirks, then motions for his ministers to continue.

Bucky laughs in the earpiece. “Always a troublemaker, Steve,” he purrs. “Sometimes the only way to stop you from smarting off is to stick my dick in your mouth.”

“Jesus, Buck,” he says under his breath.

“Mm. Say it a little louder, sweetheart. The way you do when I’m balls deep in that marble ass, hitting you just right.”

That does it. Steve snatches up his briefing folder and, holding it in front of the bulge forming in the front of his jeans, stands up. He flicks the mute button on his earpiece and catches T’Challa’s eye. “Excuse me, your highness. I need to take this call.”

T’Challa nods and claps his hands. “Let us break for some lunch, friends. This is going nowhere productive anyway.” He looks at Steve for a moment before turning a flinty gaze on the Minister of Security. “Perhaps when we return, you can stay focused on the task at hand, rather than angling for reappointment.”

Steve fires off a two-finger salute toward T’Challa, then heads out into the hall as he unmutes his earpiece.

“C’mon, Stevie. At least tell me I’ve got you a little fired up, huh? You deserve a break. You need it as bad as I do.” Bucky’s voice stretches taut with need. “Hell, I’ll let you fuck me again right now, if that’s what you want. Just tell me how you want it.”

“I’ll consider it,” Steve says, as he punches the button for the elevator.

“I’ll push your face down into the mattress and eat out that sweet ass. See if I can make you come for me with just my tongue.” Bucky moans into the earpiece. “Or maybe you want to tie me up again and let me suck on that nice thick dick of yours. Just tell me what you want, baby.”

“So needy,” Steve teases, brushing his hand against the front of his jeans. His hardness is bunched up painfully against the zipper. “I tell you what.”

“Yeah?” Bucky asks, his tone ripe with eagerness.

Steve exits the lift on the floor for their suite and scans the hallway. Empty. “Are you good and hard for me?”

Bucky exhales, long and slow. “God, yes.”

Steve grins, imagining for a moment the way Bucky’s cock curls up against his stomach. “Stand up, then. Put your back to the wall. Close your eyes.”

The sound of the bed creaking and sheets rustling trickles through the comms. “Done.”

Steve presses his thumb to the scanner and the door to their suite unlocks. He yanks his earpiece out and shoves it in his jeans pocket as he steps inside and sweeps his gaze over Bucky, dressed in white sleeping pants and nothing else, with his back to the wall and his face upturned, eyes closed. The thick muscles lining Bucky’s chest and stomach sink down into his waistband in a perfect V. With a sly grin, Steve unfastens the front of his jeans, loosing his erection, then snatches Bucky by both wrists and presses them up and over his head against the wall.

“Good morning to you, too,” Bucky says, keeping his eyes shut.

Steve presses the length of his body against Bucky’s to pin him in place, and pauses a moment, admiring the faint stubble lining his cut-glass cheekbones and the cleft in his chin. With his lip curled back, he shoves Bucky’s pants down with his free hand. As he twists his hand around both their shafts, both of them shiny with precome, to rub them together, he thrusts his tongue into Bucky’s mouth, earning him a whimper from Bucky that curls tight in Steve’s gut.

“Isn’t really morning anymore, sweetheart,” Steve breathes into Bucky’s ear. He works his cock against Bucky’s with slow, tight snaps of his hips, and Bucky writhes against him, still pinned in place. “But doesn’t matter. I can’t let you go unfucked. Apparently,” Steve pauses to nip at Bucky’s neck, “it’s a workplace hazard.”

Bucky’s back arches as he bites his lower lip. “Fuck me good and I promise I’ll behave.”

Steve tightens his grip. “We both know that’s a lie.” His hips dig into Bucky’s; heat burns deep in his gut, but he wrestles it back. “You’re always such a little slut for my cock.”

“I got good taste.” Then Bucky jerks suddenly, and his eyes go wide. “Fuck, Stevie, I’m gonna come—”

“So do it already,” Steve growls.

With a sharp gasp, Bucky rocks his head back and gives one last thrust into Steve’s hand. “God dammit,” he snarls, as his climax spills onto his stomach and Steve’s. He goes limp, but Steve’s grip keeps him held up against the wall. “Shit, give me a minute—”

“Oh, no. I’m not done with you yet.” Steve swirls his tongue around Bucky’s earlobe. “I think I’ve got some better uses for that filthy mouth of yours.”

Bucky’s shoulders shake with a faint laugh; his expression is weary, but content. “Is that so?”

“Teach you a lesson to disrupt me when I’m in an important meeting.” Steve takes a step back and lets Bucky’s arms drop; with a grin, Bucky starts to slide to the ground. “You can start by cleaning up your mess with your tongue.” Steve arches one brow. “And then you can show me just how much you love the taste of my dick.”

Bucky pushes himself onto his knees, blue eyes glinting. “I’m not sure that’s going to teach me quite the lesson you want, baby.”

Steve laces the fingers of one hand through Bucky’s dark locks and teases his thumb over Bucky’s plush lower lip. “I’m counting on it.”


	3. Public + Stucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Kinktober Day 3: Public
> 
> (Stucky requested on Tumblr by Anon)
> 
>  
> 
> woefully underedited, I'm so sorry
> 
>  
> 
> [Send me requests!](http://starandshield.tumblr.com)

**Day 3: Public + Stucky**

 

“Seriously, fellas? What is this, your third time for _Buck Privates_?” The London base’s movie clerk forks over two tickets. “You know we ain’t gettin’ another American movie in for at least a month.”

Steve holds the tickets out to Bucky, who selects one and pockets it. “Just can’t get enough of those Andrews Sisters, I guess,” Steve says with a grin.

The clerk chuckles. “All right, you got me there. Hey.” He leans over the counter. “Which one you like best?”

“The blonde one,” Bucky says immediately.

“Amen to that. How about you, Cap?”

Steve shrugs his shoulders, eyes squinting in that way that makes Bucky weak in the knees. “I’m partial to the brunette.”

“Well, hell, pal, you’re Captain America. You could probably get with all three.”

Bucky raises one eyebrow, his dress uniform hat raising up. “A good officer takes care of his troops before himself.”

The clerk snorts. “Sorry, I ain’t joining up with your Howling Lunatics. Not for all the Andrews Sisters in the world.”

“That’s all right. You’re doing good work here.” Steve salutes him, then, with the faintest press of fingers at the base of Bucky’s spine, steers him toward the base movie theatre.

Bucky bites the inside of his cheek from the brief touch as they enter the dimly lit theatre and scan the crowd. There’s maybe a dozen soldiers in here, tops, most of them by themselves, spread out across the whole auditorium. But the last few rows are mercifully, blessedly empty. He takes off his hat and tucks it under one arm, then gestures toward the stairs with the other. “Captains first.”

Steve gives him a tight smile, eyes cool and dark, and climbs the stairs toward the back row.

The trick to not getting caught, they’ve learned, is to have a system.

As the light dims, Bucky shrugs out of his dress jacket, folds it carefully, and places it on the empty seat beside him while Steve does the same. Bucky reaches down and unlaces his shoes and sets them beside him on the floor. The click of heeled dress shoes on the tiles is just too loud to risk, after all.

The newsreel starts, and Bucky loosens his tie. Beside him, he’s aware of everything Steve—his shallow, quick breaths; the controlled, nimble movements of his slender fingers as he unbuttons his shirt. His scent, warm and clean and intoxicating, dizzying Bucky worse than any bourbon ever could.

But they have an unspoken agreement about the newsreel—when news about the troops flashes on the screen, they stop. Bucky’s heart lodges in his throat as they report on the latest battles and victories and casualties. He hears Steve swallow beside him, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed.

Then the news rolls into a Looney Tunes short, and they both let out their breaths.

Steve starts with his thumb, sweeping it slow across Bucky’s lower lip. With closed eyes, Bucky exhales, and darts his tongue out for a taste of Steve’s skin. From the corner of his eye, he sees Steve smiling, eyes dark and focused. Steve’s always been like this—predatory, bold, unabashed—but his new size only adds to his forwardness. It’s not that Bucky doesn’t relish the chance to push him around some. It’s just that Steve makes it so worthwhile to yield.

If they speak, they wait for the music to be loudest, like now, as Bugs Bunny flees across the screen. “How do you like me, sweetheart?” Steve whispers right at Bucky’s ear. For good measure, his nose grazes at Bucky’s temple, and he drags the edge of his lower teeth against Bucky’s cheek.

Bucky swallows back a sigh and feels himself tremble as all the possibilities spin free. The theatre’s been a godsend for them when they’re not out in the field—dark and unobtrusive. Not as likely to be discovered as the barracks, especially since Steve sleeps with the officers and Bucky’s stuck with all the other NCOs. Far less riskier than a hotel, where any hint of two men renting for reasons less than wholly pure might lead to all sorts of questions—especially if they make the neighboring room complain.

He rarely dares to let himself imagine specific scenarios, just lets himself fill up with directionless want. And in a life like theirs, it’s far too dangerous to make plans. It’s best to let things unfold as they may. If only they had that luxury. If only they could be together without strict negotiations, careful planning, and silent execution.

If only they didn’t have to be silent at all.

Bucky runs his hand along Steve’s thigh, fingertips curling deep down, just barely brushing the front of Steve’s slacks. He leans over the armrest between them and lets his eyelashes brush against Steve’s as he crushes their lips together. It’s a quiet, measured kiss, but deep the way a knife wound is deep, mouths fitted together like a lock and key, tongues gliding together, Steve’s taste burning and bright in Bucky’s mind. Steve brings one hand to Bucky’s cheek and slides his fingers through Bucky’s hair to cradle him. Keep him close.

Bucky tips his head back, and it takes all his will not to exhale audibly. God, it’s torture, to have Steve here with him, but for there to be these thick walls, all these rules to what they can and can’t do if they want to hold on to what they have. Who knows what the next mission might bring, or the one after that—There are no guarantees. Just once, he wants Steve for his own, and he wants all the world to know.

For now, though, he wants whatever he can get.

Bucky moistens his lips as the Looney Tunes credits music plays and brings his mouth to Steve’s ear. “Captain’s orders,” Bucky whispers. “You tell me what you need tonight.”

“Jesus,” Steve breathes. “I don’t even know—”

So while he deliberates, Bucky slides onto his lap.

Steve stifles a groan as Bucky’s thighs trap his and Bucky nips at Steve’s throat. Both of their dress shirts are unbuttoned and untucked, and Bucky slips one hand up underneath Steve’s undershirt and gives one nipple a sharp yank. Steve’s teeth click together to hold in a moan, which only makes Bucky want to twist harder. Instead, he rolls up Steve’s undershirt and swirls his tongue around Steve’s nipple, slow and wet.

The Universal Studios music plays, and in the flicker of the projector, Bucky admires Steve’s face—scrunched up, dark eyebrows furrowed, a blonde lock falling across his forehead, and his lip flushed from where he’s biting it with his teeth. Bucky straightens up and lower his hand to cup the band of muscle over Steve’s hipbone. “C’mon, Cap,” Bucky whispers, his voice smoky. With a rock of his hips, he brushes his growing hardness against Steve’s. “Give me your orders.”

The laughs of the other servicemen as Abbott and Costello slapstick on the screen pulls Bucky out of the moment—but only briefly. He slides his hands around Steve’s back and shoves them down beneath his waistband to grip his ass.

Steve’s throat bobs as he swallows. “I want you inside me,” he breathes. “Please.”

Something flutters in Bucky’s chest, and he traps Steve’s mouth for another aching kiss. He slips one finger between Steve’s cheeks and gently circles the tight pucker of his hole. Steve clenches, and sucks at Bucky’s tongue with a scrape of teeth. Bucky smiles against Steve’s mouth and pushes his finger in, just to the first joint to start, but then working in deeper as Steve makes soft, muted whimpers into Bucky’s mouth. Once Bucky sinks his finger in to the knuckle, he crooks his finger and traps Steve’s cry of pleasure between them.

“Gotta be quiet for me, okay, sweetheart?” Bucky breathes, trailing his mouth against Steve’s cheek toward his ear. “Can you do that, baby?”

Steve nods against his shoulder, and Bucky starts to work a second finger in. Steve bites down on Bucky’s shoulder to stifle another gasp as he starts to work the second inside and works his fingers apart, pushing and stretching, and then, with a devilish grin, Bucky angles his fingers once more.

“Buck,” Steve groans into the meat of Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky shushes him gently again, but can’t help but grin. “Good boy,” Bucky murmurs, under a blanket of laughter from the other moviegoers. Carefully, to keep the seat from squeaking, Bucky slips his hands back out and climbs off of Steve. With a crooked smile, he holds one hand out to Steve and beckons him forward.

This, too, they know: crouching down into the narrow strip of floor between their seats and the row in front of them. Bucky nestles behind Steve, lying on his side, and pulls Steve into his arms as easily as if he were still that scrawny kid Bucky first fell in love with. With Steve’s back to him, he presses his mouth against Steve’s neck and savors the slightly salty taste of his skin as he sucks and sucks, just far enough down for Steve’s collar to conceal when he’s fully clothed.

Well. To mostly conceal. Bucky smirks, and bites down harder.

Steve’s back arches, his ass digging into Bucky’s front, and now it’s Bucky’s turn to stifle a groan. He reaches around to Steve’s front and sets to work nimbly unfastening his trousers, then slowly, agonizingly works them down and off of Steve before peeling out of his own. There’s no turning back now. If they’re caught, there’s no excuse in the world that could save them.

Bucky’d be lying, though, if the possibility didn’t just add to the thrill.

He wads up his boxers, then, crouching over Steve, wedges a mouthful of the fabric into Steve’s mouth. “Just to be safe, sweetheart,” Bucky whispers, as Steve’s eyes dart toward his, wide and wild. Bucky plants a kiss on his cheek, wet and sloppy, then trails his mouth down the thick valley between Steve’s shoulderblades. Down his spine. At the soft base of Steve’s back, Bucky takes a juicy bite, nose squashing into Steve’s muscle, before working his tongue in between Steve’s cheeks.

Steve’s keeping quiet, but Bucky can read his pleasure in every twitch and clench. He circles Steve’s hole with his tongue, savoring his earthy taste, then slides it in deep. Now Steve can’t help but squirm, with silent but forceful jerks of his hips, as Bucky thrusts his tongue as deep as he can, teeth gnawing just outside Steve’s hole as he fights to dig as deep as he can.

Steve taps his fingers frantically against his flank—one of their unspoken signals. If Bucky pushes any harder, Steve’ll come, and Bucky wants to draw this out, reel their pleasure out as long as they can to last them until the next time they can be together. ( _If_ there’s a next time, the cruel voice in the back of Bucky’s head taunts.) Bucky eases his tongue out, kisses Steve’s hole one last time, and reaches down between his thighs to tease his own cock the rest of the way to full hardness.

The lean lines of muscle wrapped around Steve’s ribs stretch and tighten as Steve breathes heavily. Bucky fishes the tin of Vaseline out of his pocket and smears a thick dollop onto his fingertips. The faint scent of petroleum grounds him; it reminds him of countless times in their one-room flat, learning their way around each other’s bodies and the sweet taste of a shared secret. Someday, Bucky thinks, maybe they won’t have to be a secret.

For now, though, they have each other—and he’ll cling to that as long as he can.

He spreads a generous portion of the jelly on Steve’s hole, then closes his palm around his shaft and gives himself a few slow, measured strokes. Steve’s eyes are open, looking back over his shoulder at Bucky, and Bucky answers him with a wicked grin as the first Andrews Sisters musical number starts. A vein at Steve’s throat twitches, and Bucky feels it too—the sweet thrum of anticipation, the empty moment before perfection.

He almost hates to break the spell, Steve spread out before him, as naked as they dare to get here, his body tight as piano wire, but it’ll be worth it.

Bucky bends Steve’s top leg forward, then crouches over him, the hard floor digging into his knees. He doesn’t care. With a trembling hand, he guides the head of his cock toward Steve’s exposed hole and, biting his lower lip to tamp down a groan, presses the head inside. Steve makes a muffled sound into the underwear in his mouth, barely audible between the chords of “You’re In the Army Now,” and Bucky can’t even blame him. There’s no telling the filthy things that would come pouring out of his mouth right now if he could.

Slowly, Bucky rocks his hips forward to thrust deeper, and Steve clenches around him. He can’t go too fast—can’t make too much noise—so he sticks to long, slow movements, easing his way nearly out of Steve before driving back in, savoring each point when he strikes Steve just right and Steve’s eyes wrench shut with a silent cry.

Steve reaches back to loop an arm around Bucky’s neck, and Bucky leans over him as he moves, nice and slow, and takes a risk to whisper in his ear. “You feel so fucking good, babydoll.” His dog tags dangle over Steve’s shoulder, one each of Barnes and Rogers, sweeping forward as he snaps his hips forward. “Make me wanna fill you up.”

Steve spits out the underwear and raises his head to kiss Bucky, pulling him forward with his arm at his neck. It’s an awkward angle, but Bucky couldn’t care less. He quickens his pace, still thrusting steady, but pushing deeper each time now, pressure building inside him. Steve sucks at Bucky’s lower lip, and now it’s Bucky who has to stifle a moan, and of course the musical number is ending, and he isn’t going to last much longer—

He reaches down and grips Steve’s dick, reckless and hasty, and pumps him as he buries himself deep inside Steve. Steve’s head rears back, and Bucky takes the opportunity to bite hard at Steve’s nipple. Buries his cry against Steve’s skin as he bucks forward, lightning surging through him. As the rest of the audience howls with laughter, Bucky slides into the white heat of his climax, teeth digging hard into skin, fist squeezing around Steve’s cock, muscles locking, body crackling with overwhelming bliss.

_I love you so much, Stevie, please don’t go, I’ve lost you too many times already, please don’t let this war ever end if it means spending my days and nights with you_

Bucky’s eyes flutter open as Steve’s mouth crashes against his once more. For a minute, he’s scared he’s spoken out loud, but no one’s charging up the stairs, the movie’s playing, he’s still curled around Steve’s body, protective, possessive. He drinks in Steve’s kiss and lets it ground him, bring him slowly back to himself. With his free hand, Steve closes his fist around Bucky’s, and moves them together, until Steve’s eyes are squeezing shut and he’s squirting white heat against his stomach and pouring his anguished cry into Bucky’s mouth.

After Bucky’s pulled himself free and used his kerchief to clean them both up, they curl up in each other’s arms on the floor, soft and loose and savoring the brush of skin on skin for as long as they can. Another musical number starts, women pledging their love to their soldiers, promising to marry them when they return home. But Bucky’s soldier is right here in his arms, and for another hour, at least, there isn’t a soul in the world who can stop them, who can take them away.

“I love you,” Steve murmurs, against the top of Bucky’s head.

Bucky kisses him, lazy, then sinks back into his arms. “You wanna take my name when we get home, like the lady says?”

“I’ll take all of you,” Steve whispers back. “I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give.”

“Get through this war with me.” Bucky kisses the middle of Steve’s chest, right where both of their dog tags rest. “And we’ll never have to hide again.”


	4. Size Difference + Stucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day late, sorry! Short and sweet for pre-war Steve, who is short and salty.
> 
> (There was this whole subthread about Bucky working for a mob boss to pay their bills but wtf, we're all here for the smut, I'll save it for another fic)
> 
>  
> 
> [Send me requests!](http://starandshield.tumblr.com)

**Day 6: Size Difference + Stucky**

 

Steve is fine lines and creamy skin and bones as fine as a bird’s, and maybe just as hollow, and the way he fits in Bucky’s arms, it’s like he was made to be held against him.

“Buck,” Steve murmurs, his voice syrupy like Ovaltine. He’s half-asleep; he barely makes a dent in the mattress, not the great upheaval Bucky just made when he crawled in. Bucky slides one arm beneath Steve’s neck, careful, cradling his head against his bicep, and wraps the other around Steve’s waist. If he dug underneath Steve, he could probably reach all the way and grip his own hip on the other side.

He likes his hand right where it is, though, brushing the taut, smooth skin of Steve’s stomach. “Hey there, gorgeous,” Bucky whispers into his ear. His heart is thudding against the knobs of Steve’s spine; he’s sure Steve can feel it.

“You showered,” Steve says. His eyelids flutter, the moonlight kissing silver on his lashes.

Bucky’s jaw tightens. He blinks, trying to clear the sound from his head of another night earning his keep with Gordoni’s crew. “Just scrubbing work off of me.” He nudges his nose against Steve’s shoulder and changes the subject. “How about you, big guy? You use those new oils I bought you?”

And the way Steve smiles, it makes it all worth it. Those thin pink lips that Bucky just wants to cover with his own, again and again. “They’re perfect. I mixed some gorgeous blue shades tonight. Started on the water.”

Bucky runs his fingers in slow strokes down Steve’s stomach, below his navel. “Mm. You gonna let me see this masterpiece anytime soon?”

Steve shrugs his bony shoulders. “When it’s done.”

“When it’s done,” Bucky echoes, and nudges his fingertips beneath the waistband of Steve’s boxers. Steve’s body tightens in response—an involuntary hitch, his breath sucking in and his eyes widening. “And how about you, big guy? You gonna let me see you tonight?”

Steve laughs low. He used to throw such a fit, when they first got intimate, about Bucky calling him cute names—babydoll and sweetheart and so on. Sometimes it was worth it just to see him get all punchy and red in the face, but the way his chest puffs up with pride and the dark grin that overtakes him when Bucky talks him up, oh, it’s even better.

“I dunno,” Steve finally says. “I kinda like where you’re headed right now.”

Bucky kisses his shoulderblade, that smooth, angled plate; he kisses the shallow curve it makes toward the crease of Steve’s spine. His hand, though, his hand, he cups around Steve’s balls, and god, if the soft whimper Steve makes doesn’t make every fucking second he has to spend with Gordoni’s goons worth his while.

“Looks like someone’s all ready for me.” Bucky traces one fingertip up the length of Steve’s cock, nice and firm. “Gotta keep my big man satisfied.”

Steve exhales, a sweet, high noise. Bucky angles his hips to let Steve feel his own erection building against the backs of Steve’s thighs. “Lord knows someone needs to keep you in line,” Steve says. His eyes roll back as Bucky’s fist closes around the length of him.

Bucky works in long, slow strokes and breathes in the clean smell of Steve’s hair and savors every soft twitch of Steve’s muscles, his slender body reacting so perfectly to everything Bucky does. He’s heard some of the other guys, the ones like them they’ve met, yammer on and on about size, about how much they like a huge dick, but Bucky can’t imagine anything better than this, this perfect little spitfire wrapped up in his arms. And then, when Steve’s inside him, with Vaseline and a little elbow grease, he’s got no problem hitting Bucky just right.

And then, when Bucky works his way inside Steve, slow and careful and oh, so deep—the noise Steve makes is nothing short of divine.

“Shit,” Steve whispers. “Keep going, sweetheart—”

Bucky grins and nips at Steve’s neck, sucking at his soft skin, as he quickens his pace. The more Steve locks up beneath him, the harder he sucks. It’s so easy to mark him up, and god, if he doesn’t love the way Steve looks in the morning, speckled from Bucky’s mouth, carefully buttoning up his dress collar to cover it all up. Bucky loves knowing it’s all right there beneath his clothes.

“God, Buck,” Steve cries, and rocks his head back as his hips thrust forward. Bucky presses Steve tight against him while Steve comes and laves his tongue against the fresh mark he’s made. Lord, he loves this little bundle of firecrackers. Can’t imagine him any other way.

As Steve relaxes, Bucky lets him fall onto his back, and curls over him to kiss him. Slow at first, then nudging Steve’s mouth open with his tongue. He wraps both hands around Steve’s fine cheekbones and strokes them with his thumbs, Steve’s face practically swallowed up in his palms.

“All right, big guy,” Bucky says. He lets his thumb slide down and circles Steve’s rosy, flushed mouth with it. That sweet little jaw has to work overtime to fit around Bucky’s cock, but when it does, Steve grips on to him like a vise. “How about we put that lip on you to use?”

Steve laughs, his shallow chest fluttering beneath Bucky’s. “But then how’ll I boss you around, sweetheart?”

Bucky nuzzles his forehead against Steve’s as he kisses him once more. “I’m sure you can find a way.”


	5. Asphyxiation/Edgeplay + Stucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Riakomai's request for Day 9: Asphyxiation + Stucky. I decided to combine it with Day 10: Edgeplay, since I had basically the same idea for both. ;)
> 
> ETA: Soooo apparently there are two different definitions of edgeplay. This one uses the BDSM-type concept of "pushing the limits of negotiated kink", not the other definition of withholding climax. Sorry for anyone who's disappointed!
> 
> **WARNING: While this is all consensual and pre-negotiated, it appears like noncon.**
> 
>  
> 
> [Send me requests!](http://starandshield.tumblr.com/ask)

**Day 9: Asphyxiation/Day 10: Edgeplay + Stucky**

 

Steve wakes up from his nap on the couch when his loft’s front door flies off its hinges and crashes to the ground.

“Shit!” He bolts up and shoves his feet into his sneakers, then scrambles for the shield, perched in the armchair beside him. Bucky—no, _the soldier_ , Steve corrects himself—is already stalking into the main room, combat boots heavy on the wooden floors. His frosty stare rakes over Steve like nails as he reaches for his sidearm. Somewhere beneath the mask covering the lower half of his face, Steve can almost see him smiling.

Then he raises the pistol.

“Jesus—”

Steve flings the shield up to cover his torso and face, just in time: two silenced shots ping off its surface, and one of them ricochets into the ceramic white lamp the Bartons got them as a wedding present. Somewhere in between the flying shards of ceramic, Steve remembers that Bucky never did much like that lamp. He stifles a laugh and waits for the soldier to finish emptying his clip.

“That the best you’ve got?” Steve calls, from where he’s turtled in a crouch beside the couch. If there’s going to be literal shots fired, Steve figures, he isn’t holding back, either. Then, without waiting for an answer, he flings the shield at the soldier’s face.

The soldier catches it in his metal arm and, with a clatter of metal plates shifting, rears his arm back to sling it toward Steve. Too slow. Steve takes the moment to leap toward him and knocks the gun out of his right hand with a kick.

With a snarl, the soldier drops the shield and catches Steve under his thigh with his metal arm. Yanks him in. Steve’s heart jackhammers against his chest; the malice dripping from those narrowed blue eyes is near lethal. And fuck if it doesn’t send a shiver down Steve’s spine—a shiver of the best kind.

Steve snatches at the soldier’s mask and rips it away just as the soldier flips him over.

He lands with a groan. Slowly, Steve rolls over onto his hands and knees. Behind him, metal scrapes against leather—the sound of a knife unsheathing—and it stokes the embers already in Steve’s chest. With a smirk, he scrabbles to his feet and whirls around as the soldier lunges toward him with a serrated hunting knife.

 _How cute,_ Steve thinks. _He expects me to crack._

Steve swings a left hook at the soldier’s jaw, aiming to smack the sneer right off those plush lips, but the soldier catches his hand in his metal palm and wrenches his arm back and around to the small of Steve’s spine. The arm’s plates shift and sigh as he shoves Steve face-first against an exposed brick wall. Something like a laugh rumbles deep in the soldier’s throat, and Steve’s head spins, the fire in his belly now raging. The soldier’s weight bears against him, rough and firm, and yet somehow just as good to Steve as the sweetest embrace.

With his breath hot and smoky, the soldier leans his mouth toward Steve’s ear and exhales. “You just don’t know when to quit.” He shoves his knee between the back of Steve’s thighs, spreading his legs wide.

Steve grins. “I can do this all—”

The soldier sinks his teeth into the meat of Steve’s shoulderblade, and Steve gasps. If Bu— _the soldier_ —turned him around now, there’d be no hiding his epic tenting situation. But he doesn’t. He slips the knife down the side of Steve’s jeans waistband and—fuck, Steve _just bought those_ —slices them open until they slide down Steve’s legs to his ankles.

Steve closes his eyes and allows himself a hungry sigh.

The knife clatters to the floor, and then Steve hears the clank of a belt unfastening and the soldier’s black BDUs zipping open.

Steve sinks down, slipping out of the soldier’s grasp, but in an instant, the soldier catches him by the throat with his left hand. Steve manages a strangled cry as the leather gloves and metal fingers dig into his vocal cords.

“What was that?” the soldier snarls. Like he thinks Steve might have said _Brooklyn._ Like he’d give up so fucking easily.

“I said—” Steve wheezes and sucks down some fresh air. “You can do better than that.”

The soldier flings him by the throat onto the glass dining table.

A little too hard. It shatters under Steve’s weight. Without releasing him, the soldier yanks him back up and, doing a quick tactical scan, slams Steve onto his back on the granite kitchen island instead, glass crunching under the treads of his boots. Steve kicks his bare legs upward and manages to lock them around the soldier’s neck, but the metal arm’s grip is too strong, the soldier’s hold on him too secure. With his lips twisting into a smirk, the soldier fumbles with something with his right hand, and then suddenly there’s something cold and slick pressing against Steve’s ass.

“Last chance,” the soldier says, voice husky and dark.

Steve shakes his head, ever so slightly, and draws a ragged breath.

The soldier prods against him, and Steve shudders as he feels himself stretch painfully around the soldier’s slicked cock. Dark spots swim at the edges of his vision, from a lack of air and a distinct lack of blood supply, too, now that it’s all headed south. The soldier’s upper lip twitches and curls back as he forces himself deeper into Steve. Steve groans at the friction despite the lube until—

Oh, god, the soldier sinks all the way into him and sparks flare deep inside him.

Steve’s strangled cry makes the soldier clench his fist tighter at his throat. Steve plants both of his palms against the metal arm, but there’s no prying it away. He’s helpless as the soldier works into him with quick, violent thrusts. Steve shudders at the end of each, his own dick throbbing, and the soldier’s grunts turn feral. Possessive. Without releasing his hold on Steve’s throat or moving Steve’s legs out of the way, the soldier reaches down and seizes Steve’s dick in a ferocious grip.

“Fuck,” Steve wheezes again. The metal fingers are digging into his esophagus now, and each time the soldier slams into him, he feels himself edging closer to total blackness. His field of vision is shrinking—he can’t suck down enough air—and as the soldier works Steve’s cock in swift, angry jabs while his own face, framed with stringy dark locks, seizes up as he starts to come—

Steve groans, though it sounds more like a sigh, and as he feels himself come his eyes flutter shut and the blackness reaches for him with long, spindly arms and tugs him down into the depths—

 

*

 

“Steve. Stevie. C’mon, sweetheart.”

Steve’s sprawled on their bed, Bucky curled around him, stroking the side of Steve’s face with the backs of his fingertips. Steve blinks a few times to clear his sight and manages a slow smile. “H-hey there.”

“Jesus Christ.” Bucky slugs him in the shoulder, though it lands with all the force of a damp dishrag. “You didn’t say the word, or make any sign, and I thought—”

“No. No, you did great.” Steve rolls toward him, but pauses to groan sharply—his back is stiff and aching. “Oh. Shit. The dining room table—”

“Yeah, I, uh . . . Sorry.” Bucky’s face flushes bright red. “I guess I was, um, enjoying myself a little too much.”

“Well, that makes two of us.” Steve reaches a lazy hand toward Bucky’s cheek and cups it. “C’mere, you.”

Bucky leans over him and kisses him, his lips soft and warm. Steve just wants to nestle into that warmth and stay there for a few days. Bucky’s dark lashes sweep against Steve’s cheeks, then he leans back to lie down at Steve’s side. “Don’t fucking scare me like that again, though.”

“That’s what’s supposed to happen!” Steve risks a hand at his own neck; he can still feel divots from where the joints of Bucky’s metal hand dug in. “It was perfect. Honest.”

“You promise?” Bucky asks shyly.

Steve kisses his forehead and pulls Bucky close to cradle him against his side. “Promise.” He smiles, mouth still pressed to Bucky’s face, and breathes in the clean scent of Bucky’s shampoo. “The gun, though—gotta admit, I wasn’t expecting that.”

Bucky shakes with a tired laugh. “What can I say? I was having fun.”

“Me too, baby.” Steve kisses his forehead again. “Me too.”

“Sorry about the lamp,” Bucky murmurs, nuzzling closer against Steve’s side.

Steve laughs and strokes his fingers along Bucky’s arm. “No, you’re not.”

“You’re right.” Bucky closes his eyes with a contented smile. “I’m not.”


	6. Sadism/Masochism + Stucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Kinktober Day 11: Sadism/Masochism
> 
> (Stucky requested on Tumblr by Anon x 2, and [Riakomai](http://riakomai.tumblr.com)'s smol vintage dom!Steve is the BEST)
> 
> I added some Bondage/Dominance as well. Trusting y'all won't mind. ;)
> 
> [Send me requests!](http://starandshield.tumblr.com/ask)

**Day 11: Sadism/Masochism (+ Bondage/Dominance) + Stucky**

 

“You’re late,” Steve says.

Bucky kicks off his loafers without bothering to untie them and hangs his peacoat up on the rack. “We got busy. It’s the holidays.”

“We missed the movie.” Steve follows behind him as he moves toward the dresser, knobby shoulders wrenched up almost to his ears. “Now we’ve stood up the Reinberg sisters, too.”

“Weren’t we supposed to take ‘em dancin’ up in Harlem after the picture show? We could probably still do that,” Bucky says. Like he has any intention of dancing with Gretta Reinberg. More like he’d let the dames dance while he sipped some cheap champagne with Steve, begging off on account of his sore feet.

Steve scoffs. “Like they’d want anything to do with us after we didn’t show.”

“Jesus, Steve, you really sound ticked off.” Bucky peels off his dress shirt and works open his trousers. From the corner of his eye, he can see Steve’s all bundled up, like he’s been sitting around in his coat and shoes while Bucky busted his ass in the shoe department. “What’s the matter?” Something sour nestles in Bucky’s gut. “You actually sweet on Elsa Reinberg or something?”

Steve’s nostrils flare like he’s a goddamn stallion and not some ungainly colt. Bucky turns toward him, down to his socks and boxers and undershirt now, and stares him down.

“What’s it to you?” Steve finally says, spitting the words out like venom. “What’s it goddamn matter to you?”

The room sways around Bucky; the sour thing grows and grows. He could sock Steve in the mouth, he’s so furious, but he knows he never would. He takes a step toward Steve, looming over him, his face dark.

“You know perfectly fucking well what it matters to me,” Bucky hisses, trembling.

Steve sneers back at him. “You kiss your mother with that filthy mouth? Don’t you dare talk to me that way.”

And then the sour thing is gone. Steve’s words straighten Bucky’s spine and fill him up with a white heat. He takes a few slow breaths, heart hammering against his ribs, and gives Steve his dirtiest smile. “I think you know just what I’ve been kissing.”

“Do I?” Steve asks. His lip curls back and he steps toward Bucky, fists tight at his sides. “Why were you really running late, Buck?”

“Please.” Bucky folds his arms and rolls his eyes. “Everybody wants to buy their sweethearts new snow boots for the holidays. Now I’ve had a long-ass day—”

Steve snatches Bucky’s undershirt in his fist and yanks Bucky down toward him. They’re forehead to forehead, and Bucky can practically feel the heat of Steve’s anger radiating off of him, and he wants to bask in it like the summer sun.

“I don’t care how many girls you take out,” Steve says, his breath gusting over Bucky’s lips. “How many double dates you set up for us. How many broads flirt with you at the shoe counter.”

Bucky licks his lips. “You shoulda heard them today, Stevie. All these dames buyin’ new wingtips for their husbands, and they’re eyeing me like a fresh cut of meat—”

Steve cuts him off with a growl in the back of his throat, sparking something inside Bucky. “At the end of the day, though, you belong to me. Got it?”

Bucky wriggles back from Steve, his undershirt stretching out. “I dunno, Stevie, sometimes I think you gotta remind me—”

Steve crushes his mouth against Bucky’s, a frenzy of lips and teeth. His grip at Bucky’s shirt holds firm while he grabs a fistful of Bucky’s hair in his other hand, tugging with a sharpness that curls Bucky’s toes. The kiss is graceless, frantic—Steve’s teeth scrape at Bucky, scouring him, weakening him, making even Bucky want to yield, but he loves it too much, that pain only his Steve can dish out.

Steve’s lips pull back; he’s breathing heavily against Bucky’s mouth. “Next time,” he says hotly, “don’t forget.”

Then Steve pulls away and releases him, and Bucky nearly topples over. He hadn’t been putting his weight on Steve, but he’d been leaning all the same. As he straightens up, Bucky tries to adjust himself, noticing the awkward bulge at his front—

But as soon as he does, something cracks against his knuckles.

“Ow!” he shrieks. “Jesus, you little tyrant—”

“What was that?” Steve asks, patting a wooden cooking spoon into his open palm.

Bucky sucks in his breath as the sharp red pain skitters across Bucky’s hand. “I said you’re a tyrant.” At least Steve didn’t smack him right in the groin. This time. “Like Sister Magdalena back in grade school.”

“I think Sister Magdalena had the right idea with you.” Steve lashes out again, this time landing the spoon across the meat of Bucky’s thigh. “You need discipline.”

Bucky rubs at the streak along his thigh. “And you think you’re gonna give it to me? When even those nuns couldn’t—”

“Take off your pants,” Steve barks.

The shiver running through Bucky dulls the sting of the spoon, but only for a moment. “And why should I?”

Steve reaches up and snatches Bucky by the hair. He’s practically on tip-toes, and the weight as he brings himself back down yanks Bucky’s neck sideways. His scalp prickles from Steve’s fierce grip. Like a pitbull, the little shit. Steve brandishes the spoon in his free hand as he stares Bucky, studying him with eyes dark and fiery. Bucky grins back at him, and runs his tongue across the edge of his teeth.

“I think I see the problem,” Steve says. “You haven’t been properly fucked in way too long.”

All hope of covering his erection go flying out the window. Bucky whimpers deep down. “And—and what are you gonna do about?” he asks softly.

Steve studies him for a moment longer, impassive, unmoving. “Not a goddamn thing,” he says finally. “Unless you can learn to behave.”

That dampens Bucky’s smugness. “Fine,” he whispers. “Fine. Just—just tell me what you want me to do.” God damn if this human embodiment of fire and brimstone doesn’t make him want to crawl begging on his hands and knees. “I’ll be good for you, Stevie, promise—”

“Then start by taking off your pants. Your shoes, your boxers, your undershirt. It all goes.” Steve releases his hold on Bucky’s hair. “And it’s not Stevie. And you _know_ that.”

“Sir,” Bucky says all in a rush as he fumbles with the fastenings on his trousers. “Yes, sir.”

“Wait.” Steve loops the spoon through one of Bucky’s suspenders, just as he starts to shrug it over his shoulder. “Give the suspenders to me.”

It’s fluttering in his chest like a moth now, the anticipation. Bucky hurriedly undoes the suspenders and hands them over to Steve. He shakes his trousers off, then slides his boxers down, pausing to give Steve a little wiggle as he does so, though Steve’s intense expression doesn’t shift. Bucky tosses the boxers on the floor, but then Steve snatches them back up while Bucky finishes undressing.

“Look at this,” Steve says, shoving the boxers in Bucky’s face. Bucky looks down to see a sizable wet spot glistening on the front of them from his precome.

“I’m sorry, sir. You just got me worked up so much, is all,” Bucky says slyly.

“Yeah, well, I’m the one who has to do the laundry.” Steve steps back and surveys Bucky’s naked form with all the tenderness of an actuary. “Down on your hands and knees.”

Bucky raises one eyebrow and, moving to the widest clearing in the apartment, drops down onto the hardwood floor. The winter cold radiates through the wood, and the hard surface is already digging into his knees, but Bucky relishes it, his heightening senses. “You gonna ride me like a cowboy, sir?”

_Crack._ The wooden spoon strikes right into the meaty center of Bucky’s rump, and he lurches forward with a gasp. “Shit,” he whispers. Savors the way the pain travels up his body and edges his vision in red.

“Between your filthy mouth and your filthy boxers . . .” Steve steps in front of Bucky, then presses his hand around Bucky’s jaw firm enough to make his mouth pop open.

“You want me to suck on you, sir?” Bucky asks, though the pressure of Steve’s fingers distorts his words. “I’ll do it so good, baby. I promise.”

Steve answers him by shoving the front of the boxers into Bucky’s mouth. “Maybe you should start with this.” Steve glances over his shoulder. “Wouldn’t want the neighbors to hear what a crybaby you are, now, would we?”

Bucky mutters something muffled in surprise that it’s probably for the best Steve doesn’t hear.

“Crouch down on your heels. Face on the floor. Hand behinds your back.” Steve trails the wooden spoon down the length of Bucky’s left arm. “Show me what a good boy you can be.”

Bucky trembles against the spoon’s touch, but he’d rather it be Steve’s fingers. Or his cock. Or if it has to be the spoon, that Steve would put it back to work. Not that he isn’t already painfully hard. He adjusts himself so he doesn’t crush his dick as he bends forward and presses his cheek to the cold wood floor, then crosses his hands behind his back.

For a minute, he’s not sure Steve is doing anything—just looking at his ass, presented up to Steve like a Christmas roast. But then he hears the rustle of fabric that must mean Steve’s undressing. His imagination spins wild. Maybe he’s been good enough. Maybe Steve’ll put that wicked tongue of his to use in Bucky’s hole before he gets inside him. It’s not Steve isn’t big enough—for a guy his height, Bucky figures he’s pretty damn hung—but he wouldn’t mind Steve loosening him up with that sweet little mouth, just to get him closer to the edge.

Instead, he feels the stretch and snap of elastic cloth as Steve winds the suspenders around Bucky’s wrists, then fastens it at his ankles.

“Much better. Tempted to just leave you this way, Buck.” Steve runs his palm over the curve of Bucky’s ass before giving it a swift slap. “You’d get into a hell of a lot less trouble this way.”

Bucky twists his head back to try to look at Steve. He’s stripped down into his boxers and undershirt as well, the cold making his slender nipples strain at the undershirt. Bucky bats his eyelashes at Steve, doing his best to convey _You like me better when I get in trouble_ while still thinking how much he’d like to push Steve down and suck on those nipples for himself.

“Don’t look at me like that. You’re still in trouble,” Steve says. He reaches over Bucky and tilts his chin until Bucky’s staring face-down at the wood. Bucky exhales and flexes his forearms, testing the restraints. They’re cutting into his skin, giving him something to focus on.

Pain. It focuses him so well. Keeps him from chafing at all these restless thoughts in his head, all this directionless energy. The pain of keeping his hands around Steve when they’re out on the town, the pain of watching Steve flirt with his date and sling an arm around her shoulder. The pain of biting his tongue when the girls at the department store tease him and flirt with him and try to set him up with their friends.

But the pain Steve gives him is the sweetest, the deepest, the most worthwhile. Any time he feels those other pains, he can brush against a bruise or feel Steve’s teethmarks on his skin or focus on the bone-deep pain that a long night can bring, and know the truth. He can remember himself.

And Steve always delivers.

The spoon catches Bucky underneath the lower curve of his ass and digs in, rippling up through Bucky. God, for his size, Steve can pack a punch. Bucky sucks in through his teeth, hissing around his mouthful of cotton, and relishes the warm sting spreading across his rump.

“Hmm. That’s a pretty mark.” Steve’s fingers trail over where he struck, and then he lets his nails dig in. “Could use a few more, though.”

“Please,” Bucky mumbles into the mouthful of boxers.

Steve leans over him and slides his fingers into Bucky’s hair. “Are you getting greedy again? Such a floozy. Gotta keep you tied to my apron strings, don’t I?”

Bucky twitches as Steve’s breath tickles against the back of his neck, as his fingers pull harder at his hair.

“Bet you’re just hard and dripping for me already, aren’t you?” Steve says, his voice rough and raged against Bucky’s shoulders. “Dying for me to put it in you.”

Bucky manages a terse nod; it only makes Steve jerk his head back harder.

“Not just yet, baby.” Steve sinks his teeth into Bucky’s shoulder, and Bucky makes a stifled gasp. “Not quite yet.”

Steve’s whipping arm is relentless—Bucky can only imagine the beautiful stripes that are going to trail up the soles of his feet, his rump, his lower back as Steve lets his fury loose. He’ll feel the sting of them as he sits on the trolley and as he darts all over the shoe department. As he crouches down to slip rich ladies’ dainty feet into new boots. There’s a haze that swirls around him in the deepest throes of pain, and he loves it—everything is both foggy and clear at once, like the pain has dropped him into a deep pool, and in the stillness and silence he can open his eyes at last.

Finally, he hears the wooden spoon clatter to the ground. Steve’s gasping for breath behind him, and for a moment, Bucky panics, afraid he might go into a wheezing episode. But then Steve’s breathing slows.

And then—the twist of a metal tin opening, and oh, god, it’s all Bucky can do not to moan out loud.

“You gonna be good for me, babydoll?” Steve says softly. “You nice and hard for me?”

Bucky nods against the floor. His knees and shins have long since gone numb, a delirious crackling feeling that counterpoints the sting of the swats.

“You gonna come when I tell you to? And not a moment before?”

Bucky nods again.

“You gonna keep quiet?” Steve asks. “Coz I’m not making excuses to Mr. Iverson again. Not for all your wretched mewling.”

_You love it,_ Bucky thinks, but he nods once more.

“That’s a good boy.”

And then—cold, so cold, fingers and petroleum jelly pressing into his hole. Bucky moans into the wad of cotton. His thighs are sticky and his cock is aching, yet Steve stops his fingers just short of pressing deep enough to set him off. Steve’s slender fingers slide and stretch, easing away his tension, sinking him deeper into those dark waters, until he can practically see the dancing reflection of the stars.

“You see?” Steve murmurs, after a minute. “It’s so much nicer when you do as I say.”

Slowly, achingly, leans over him and sinks inside.

Bucky swears into the cotton, then clenches his teeth. Steve knows how to stretch him just right so he’s still good and tight, and fuck if it isn’t the greatest feeling in the world, especially when he’s still riding the high of crisp pain. Cold and chafing and—there it is, Steve digging deep enough into his hole to make those stars flare and trail across his vision.

And the sweet soft noises Steve makes, so delicate compared to the jagged tone Bucky just wanted to cut himself on a moment before—

“Just need to remind you every now and then,” Steve says, thrusting in deep and taking his time pulling back. “Remind you who you belong to. Who gives you what you need.”

Bucky grunts a faint agreement.

“You take it so good, sweetheart. A fucking champ, once I get you into line.” Steve sinks his nails into Bucky’s haunches, right where he’d swatted early, and Bucky gasps. “Dunno how you feel like heaven when you’re such a rotten devil—”

Shit, shit. Steve’s nails digging into him and the suspenders cutting at his ankles and wrists and the brutal rigid floor, and now Bucky’s sinking, the delicious hurt is crowding in—

“Hang on, baby. Just a moment longer—” Steve’s voice pitches higher. His hips snap against Bucky, reckless and bruising, and Bucky clenches his jaw so hard it throbs. “Come for me, sweetheart.” Steve slaps at his lower back. “Come for me.”

And when Bucky lets go, it’s a little like drowning, all the pain and pleasure filling his lungs and pulling him down.

It takes him a few minutes to come back to himself from that dark, wonderful place he goes, but it’s so worth it when he does. Worth it for Steve draped over him, panting and exhausted. Worth it for the hot slide of their come down his thighs, onto the soles of his feet. Steve kisses the nape of his neck, then down, down each knob of Bucky’s spine, until he reaches Bucky’s hands and nestles his face against them like a cat begging to be pet.

Bucky curls his fingers around Steve’s face, and Steve kisses at his fingertips for a minute before finally pulling out of him and setting to work unfastening his bindings.

“You gonna be good for me, Buck?” Steve asks, as they curl up side by side on the Murphy bed, Steve’s back to Bucky’s chest in the shivering cold.

Bucky laughs wearily and shifts to try to relieve the weight on his sore bruises. “You know I’m not.”

Steve smiles at that and closes his eyes. But then, a minute later—“You gonna be mine, Buck?” he asks, softer.

Bucky nuzzles against the nape of his neck. “Always.”


	7. Waxplay + World War Threesome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Kinktober Day 16: Waxplay, as requested by [hermioneismydawg](http://hermioneismydawg.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> [Send me requests!](http://starandshield.tumblr.com)

**Day 16: Waxplay + World War Threesome**

“For goodness’s sake, Sergeant, if you can’t hold still, I’m going to have to tie you down.” Peggy presses her knee into Bucky’s stomach. “Was he always this insufferable?” she asks Steve.

Steve finishes swirling his tongue over Bucky’s nipple before looking up at her. “Trust me, sweetheart, you don’t even know the half of it.”

“Go ahead,” Bucky drawls, turning a sly grin on each of them. “Maybe you’re better with knots than you are with candles, sugar.”

At that, Peggy promptly lowers her hand, the one clutching the lit candle, and dumps the reservoir of wax onto his chest without warning.

Bucky hisses through his teeth, back arching, eyes lidding as the warmth sears across his skin. Steve laughs and dips his finger in the wax, then smears it over Bucky’s other nipple. “Serves you right, punk.”

Rising up onto his elbows, Bucky leans into a kiss with Steve as the wax hardens and crackles on his skin. Steve tugs Bucky’s lower lip between his teeth, then catches Bucky by his dog tags—the only thing either of them are wearing—and holds him up.

“I dunno,” Bucky says, breaking the kiss. “I think you two’ve ganged up on me enough for tonight. Steve, buddy, help me out here—”

Bucky reaches over Peggy and slips the candle out of her fingers, then passes it to Steve. As her eyebrows lift, Bucky coils an arm around her waist and tugs her down onto the bed to straddle her, knees at either side of her hips.

“Ohh, Sergeant, Captain, you’re going to pay for that.”

“It’d be a shame to get wax all over that nice slip,” Steve says.

“Probably better take it off, just to be safe.” Bucky slips dexterous fingers under its lace edge and squeezes Peggy’s thigh. Leaning over her, he exhales hot breath against her face and brandishes one of his gun-barrel grins. “What do you say, queenie?”

“I say I hope you boys know what you’re doing,” Peggy replies, and pulls him down for a wet kiss.

“We catch on pretty quick,” Steve says.

Joining his hand with Bucky’s, they slide Peggy’s slip up and over her head, exposing her to the chilly air inside their London flat. Bucky cups one hand around her breast, savoring its weight, and gives it a playful squeeze. “Now if that ain’t a sight worth going to war for.”

“Not quite yet,” Steve says.

Peggy raises one eyebrow. “I beg your pardon—”

Steve holds the candle over her, trying to find the right height. She’s no supersoldier, after all, though she’s shown some impressive pain tolerance so far. Then he tips his hand, letting it dribble down her sternum, down the soft center of her belly. “There we go.” Steve leans down and kisses her throat, just under her jaw. “A piece of art.”

Peggy shivers as the wax cools quickly. “You’re real pieces of work yourselves,” she mutters.

“Yeah.” Bucky slides a hand down between her thighs. “You love it, though.”

She plucks the candle from Steve’s hand, and with her other arm, coaxes his face toward hers. “I do.”


	8. Daddy + Stucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anon, who requested Daddy + Stucky with bottom!Bucky
> 
> [Send me requests!](http://starandshield.tumblr.com/ask)

**Day 18: Daddy + Stucky**

 

“No—I can’t. You’re gonna laugh.”

Bucky looks up from sucking at Steve’s neck, one eyebrow raised. “Oh, come on, Stevie. We’ve known each other practically a century now.” He twists one metal finger in the hem of Steve’s t-shirt. “And we’ve got all kinds of lost time to make up for . . .”

“Okay, okay. But only if you _promise_ not to laugh.”

“Promise.” Bucky nips at Steve’s neck. “Just spit it out already.”

Steve runs his fingers up and down Bucky’s spine, a dark heat building deep inside him. “Well, remember back in Brooklyn—before the war, I mean—when we’d take some dames out dancin’ . . .”

“Yeah?” Bucky’s metal fingers click against the fly on Steve’s jeans as he eases it open. “You want me to take you dancing, baby?”

Steve shivers as the teeth on his zipper click open, agonizingly slow. “N-no.” He leans his head back against the couch with a faint moan. “It was just that—well, back then, when you were goin’ steady with someone, she’d call you . . . Daddy.” He closes his eyes, heat flushing over his face. “And, um, it always made me wish that sometime _you_ would call me that.”

Bucky’s hand goes still.

Steve lets out his breath, his blush deepening. “I’m sorry—it was just a thought. You don’t have to—”

“Go on,” Bucky says carefully.

Steve swallows. “Well—I just wanted to imagine you looking at me the way those girls looked at you. Like you would hang on every word I said, do everything I told you to do. And then I’d think about your lips saying it, _Daddy_ , and the way I’d make you moan it in my ear . . .”

“And you think,” Bucky murmurs, “that I wasn’t wishing for the same goddamn thing?”

Steve opens his eyes as Bucky widens the opening of Steve’s jeans. “W-were you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Bucky says with a smirk. “Of course I wanted it. After all . . . Daddy always knows what’s best for me.”

Oh, god. Steve’s dick is throbbing at the sly tone in Bucky’s voice, both teasing and obedient at the same time. He sits back up and closes his hands around Bucky’s wrists. “Especially when you don’t seem to know yourself.”

Bucky rocks back until he’s sitting on Steve’s knees, his own knees pressed into Steve’s hips. “Daddy, are you saying,” Bucky drawls, “that I’m not perfectly behaved?”

The smile on his face is positively filthy, and Steve’s already dying to dirty it up even more. But he’s going to relish this first. He tightens his grip on Bucky’s wrists, thumb pressing in between the soft bones of his flesh arm as he digs at the metal one. “Daddy tries to teach you some manners. A little discipline.” As he speaks, the dark fire inside Steve burns hotter. “But it never seems to stick.”

Bucky leans forward and tries to catch Steve’s lower lip between his teeth, but Steve rears back and gives him a stern glare. “C’mon, Daddy,” Bucky purrs. A dark lock of hair falls across his face as he leans forward. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

Steve snorts. “I’ve heard that one before.” He releases Bucky’s wrists and shoves him off of his lap. When he speaks again, all playfulness in his tone is gone, leaving only cold steel. “Get up.”

Bucky raises one eyebrow, but then slowly pulls himself to his feet, still smirking.

“What’re you smiling about? I didn’t tell you to smile.” Steve’s breath hitches as he rests his fingers on the buckle of his belt. “I’ve let you get away with way too much.”

Bucky tries, unsuccessfully, to wipe away his smile. “I think Daddy prefers me that way.”

“Get undressed. Now.”

As Bucky shimmies his way out of his sweatpants and t-shirt, Steve eases his belt free of his jeans. The dark fire is roaring in him now, his chest heaving, and as Bucky turns to expose that perfect curve of ass, Steve’s lip twitches. But he’ll be patient. He’s waited for this for too long.

Bucky tosses his shirt down and turns before Steve. “All naked for you, Daddy.” He grins again. “Now have I been a good boy?”

Steve folds the belt in two and grips it in one hand. “Just because you’re being good for me now . . .”

“Oh, what’s the matter?” Bucky teases.

“Well, there was the time I was on the conference call with T’Challa’s ministers and you snuck under the desk,” Steve says.

Bucky laughs and reaches for Steve’s knee, though Steve swats his hand away with the belt. “They couldn’t see me.”

“They could see my face, and me trying hard not to change my expression,” Steve says. “And then when you couldn’t wait for us to get back from dinner at that nice restaurant, and I had to take you into the bathroom and push your face against the wall . . .”

“Mm, you should’ve heard yourself, Daddy. I don’t think you minded a goddamn bit.”

“You shouldn’t have tempted me.” Steve tightens his grip on the belt. “And you shouldn’t push me now.”

“Or what?” Bucky asks, running his tongue along the edge of his teeth.

A knot pulls tight inside of Steve at that sight. He reaches out with his free hand to catch Bucky by the hip and pulls him closer. “You really want to find out the price of disobedience?”

Bucky sighs, an aching sound that digs deep into Steve, and casts a dark look over his shoulder. “Go ahead, Daddy,” Bucky murmurs. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Steve permits himself a faint moan as he grips Bucky by the neck and forces him down, bending him over one knee. His own erection is throbbing against the confines of his jeans, but he ignores it. This feels so much better than sex alone. As Bucky protests, squirming against Steve’s grip, the darkness in Steve turns oily, viscous, and he relishes the way it’s filling him, the way it’s goading him on.

_Crack_. The loop of the belt bites into Bucky’s ass, a red welt blooming right on the pale skin, even though it quickly fades. Bucky sucks in air through his teeth, and Steve runs his free hand down Bucky’s shoulderblades, down the center of his spine, down against the soft swell of his ass. Then, after teasing at Bucky’s cheek, he pulls his hand away.

_Crack._

“Shit,” Bucky whispers.

Steve seizes Bucky by the throat again and yanks him up, bringing their faces close. Not quite touching. Bucky’s tongue darts along his lips, but falls short of reaching Steve’s.

“Are you going to listen to me now?” Steve asks. His voice is low, but hard as stone.

Bucky manages a dry, throaty grunt. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Good. Glad to hear it.” Steve sets his belt down and feathers his fingers against Bucky’s cheek. “Are you going to be a good boy for me?”

Bucky grins again. “As good as I can be, Daddy.”

Steve permits himself a laugh. “Then prove it,” he says. “Get on your knees.”

Bucky closes his eyes with a sharp inhale as Steve releases him. Dropping to the floor between Steve’s legs, he presses his lips against the inside of Steve’s thigh. Steve’s jaw tightens as he watches Bucky, those blue eyes framed in dark lashes gazing up at him, the rough stubble he can almost feel through his jeans. Bucky mouths at his thigh, stare fixed firmly on Steve as he works his way toward the center.

“That’s good,” Steve murmurs. “Real good.” He runs his fingers through Bucky’s hair, peeling it back from his face, and curls his fingertips against Bucky’s scalp. “Maybe you really can listen sometimes.”

Bucky grins, and runs his tongue along the outline of Steve’s cock inside his jeans.

Steve closes his eyes for a moment and lets that dark heat stoke inside of him, his grip on Bucky’s hair tightening. Then he reaches down and finally, achingly, frees his cock, the tip gleaming. With a soft whimper, Bucky bites his lower lip.

Steve runs his thumb along Bucky’s cheek, still gripping his hair. “Be a good boy and suck Daddy’s cock.”

Bucky breathes against the head, watching Steve with a devilish grin. Then that velvet mouth closes around Steve, sliding all the way down to the base, and Steve rolls his head back, finally permitting himself a deep groan. Bucky hollows his cheeks in response, and works his tongue around Steve’s shaft in a slow, rough twist.

“Good boy. You use that dirty little mouth of yours so good, baby.” Steve shudders as the force of Bucky’s mouth draws him closer to the edge. “Keep it up and Daddy’ll give you a real treat.”

Bucky makes a low laugh deep in his throat, and quickens his pace, his mouth firm. Steve savors the tight fist of Bucky’s lips for a minute longer, but the fire in him is raging, determined to break free. With a growl, he yanks Bucky’s head back by the hair, and stares down at him, his face red, his lips gleaming with spit. Steve catches his breath for a moment, chest heaving, then dips two fingers between Bucky’s lips and lets him suck at them for a moment.

“Good boy,” Steve says again.

Bucky smiles, eyes dark and heavy with lust. “Is that what you wanted, Daddy?”

“Almost.” Steve motions Bucky toward the dining room table. “On your back. Now.”

Bucky takes his sweet time standing up, and curls his metal fingers around his cock as he saunters toward the dining room table. He shimmies up on to the table, then, gripping his knees, rocks back onto his back.

“Like what you see, Daddy?” he asks, voice syrupy.

Steve steps back and teases his thumb against the tight pucker of Bucky’s hole. Bucky whimpers as he pushes his thumb inside, just to the first joint, then eases out.

“C’mon, Daddy. I think I deserve more than that.”

Steve swats the back of his thigh. “Don’t be too greedy.” He lets his nails dig into Bucky’s taut muscle, then steps away. “Stay put.”

“Whatever Daddy says,” Bucky teases.

And even though Steve rolls his eyes as he heads to the bedroom, he can’t suppress how rock-hard it’s making him—how readily Bucky went along with it, how incredible it feels to have Bucky mostly obeying him. Steve snatches the bottle of lube from their nightstand and works it onto his fingertips as he makes his way back toward Bucky, still obediently clutching his knees to his chest.

“Such a good boy,” Steve says, as he begins to slip one finger inside Bucky. Bucky tenses around him with a soft moan, warm skin contracting. “You’re making Daddy proud.” He thrusts a second finger inside and works his way deeper, the fire searing now as he feels Bucky start to open up.

“Proud enough to get Daddy’s fucking cock already?” Bucky growls.

Steve pauses, pulls his fingers free, and laughs to himself. Smears a fresh dab of lube around his dick. “Only if there’s no more backtalk.”

“Fine.” Bucky clenches his jaw. “Pretty fucking please, Daddy—”

With his lip curled back, Steve eases the head of his cock against Bucky. “Fuck,” he whispers. “You’re so good and warm, baby.”

Bucky’s head tips back against the table with a long groan as Steve sinks all the way into him. Steve is burning, burning through his skin, searing against Bucky’s flesh as he grips him by the thighs and thrusts into him. Bucky’s moans, for all his sassing earlier, are sweet as sugar, and Steve just wants to gobble them up. He lowers one hand to tug at Bucky’s cock.

“Oh, god, fuck me, Daddy.” Bucky squeezes his eyes shut as Steve quickens his pace. A low growl builds in Steve at the words—fuck, they’re excruciatingly hot, coming from Bucky. Everything he dreamed of all those decades ago. And each time he buries himself in Bucky, feels Bucky squirm around him and cry out, the dark fire devours him.

“You gonna come for Daddy?” Steve asks through clenched teeth. The words are practically a snarl. “You gonna be a good boy and come for me?”

“Please, yes,” Bucky begs.

Steve shudders at the ragged desperation in Bucky’s tone. “Then do it. Make Daddy proud.”

Bucky moans as he comes white-hot over Steve’s hand and his own stomach, and just the sight of it, the way his filthy mouth rounds, sends Steve over the edge. He slams into Bucky and holds himself there, his grip brutal against Bucky’s thigh as the raging fire of his climax swallows him up. He floats on it for a minute, maybe more, and relishes the steady melody of Bucky trying to catch his breath beneath him.

Afterward, Steve carefully slides out of him and helps him clean up before pulling Bucky into an embrace. Kissing his cheek, his ear, his neck. “You’re so good, baby,” he murmurs, suddenly exhausted. “That—that wasn’t too weird, was it?”

Bucky laughs and shakes his head. “C’mon, Stevie. It was so worth it for that look on your face.”

Steve blushes as he backs away; he holds out a hand to lead Bucky to the bathroom for a shower. “Yeah? What look was that?”

Bucky turns on the water and helps Steve strip down. As steam fills the tiled room, he guides Steve into the shower, then backs him against the wall with one shove from his metal hand. Steve raises an eyebrow—but he’ll allow it. Shit. Just _thinking_ about it is getting him hard all over again.

“The look where you couldn’t decide whether you wanted to beat me senseless with that goddamn belt of yours, or eat me up with a spoon.”

Steve groans and leans back against the tile. Bucky kisses at his jaw, then trails his way down Steve’s throat. “And which were you hoping for?” Steve asks.

Bucky straightens up and pulls Steve into a kiss, lazy and juicy. Steve curls his hands over Bucky’s hips and drags him closer. Even if just to feel his heat.

“Either one,” Bucky says. “Both, really.”

Steve laughs as he holds Bucky in place. “You’re sure?”

“Completely.” Bucky rocks his hips against Steve’s as the water beats down on them both. “After all, Daddy knows best.”

That does it—it’s like adrenaline shot right into Steve’s veins. He spins them around until Bucky’s pinned against the wall now and bites at Bucky’s shoulder, all pretense of carefulness gone. “Yes. Yes, he does,” Steve says, lips pressed to Bucky’s skin. “And I’m going to make sure you don’t forget.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For anon, who requested Shibari + Natsam 
> 
> (like a MONTH ago I'm so sorry!!! I'm finally FINALLY catching up on everything)

Sam shifts his arms behind his back, and the red bands of rope shift with him, pulling tighter and tighter as he does so.—A little _too_ tight, in some key places. He manages a soft moan, and leans forward to rest his forehead on his bent knees, but that too brings its own peril. He finds nerve endings burning that he didn’t even know he had.

“Not too tight for you, is it, sweetie?” Natasha asks from behind him, in a voice that’s _anything_ but sweet. She trails her fingertips down the back of his head along his spine, over the criss-crossing ropes, and then flicks one for the briefest of seconds against the swell of his ass before stepping away, leaving cold air on his skin.

“Just tell me you didn’t make a black widow pattern on my back.”

She laughs, tight-lipped, and circles around to his front.

Sam raises his head to look at her with another uncomfortable slide of rope. “ _Shit_ ,” he inhales through his teeth. There’s a loop pulling tight around the base of his cock, and then a strategically placed knot that’s pressing right into his rim—

Natasha crouches down in front of him, knees wide, offering him the briefest glimpse at the black lace panties she’s wearing beneath the black vinyl dress. Well, _tunic_ is probably more accurate, not that he ever gave much a shit about women’s clothing articles. In fact, right now he’s feeling downright antagonistic toward their very existence.

“What’s the matter, baby?” Natasha caresses the side of his cheek with a gloved hand. “I thought you liked just a touch of pain.”

Sam lurches forward to nip at the creamy inside of one of her thighs. The ropes pull even tighter, but it’s worth it for the crisp, slightly salty taste of her skin. “I like to give as a good as I get.”

She laughs again, then rocks forward so she’s standing on her knees. Crouched over like he is, he’s just about perfect level for reaching those panties. If his hands were free, anyway.

She looks down at him with a mischievous grin. “Let’s see how good you give, then.”

She walks forward on her knees, and Sam doesn’t waste a moment swirling his tongue against her exposed thigh once more. His mouth climbs upward, toward the black lace edge, and he stops only for a momentary shudder as the rope catches as it slides against his swelling cock.

“Now you’re getting the idea,” Natasha murmurs, fingers still curled around his head.

He answers her with a hasty dart of his tongue beneath the lace trim, and she gasps, back arching. “Not made of ice and venom after all, huh?” Sam asks with a smirk, before pushing his tongue beneath the thin fabric again.

Natasha’s already wet, and he savors her sweetly sour taste with a slow circle around her clit. Her nails dig into his scalp as he starts to work his tongue back and forth and closes his mouth around her to suck gently while he works. Her thighs tense, and she arches over him, mouth close to his ear, to let out a deep moan.

Oh god Sam’s cock is _throbbing_ now, and with the rope around the base, it’s the worst and best kind of torture all at once. He sucks Natasha’s clit into his mouth with full force now as she cries out, and her body pulses as her climax ripples through her; her thighs clench around his face. He knows he must be giving her some serious stubble burn as he draws her in deeper, but she’s too damn sweet to resist.

Slowly, Natasha drifts back to herself, and sits back on her heels so they’re eye to eye. “Good boy,” she says again, running her thumb through his goatee, then pulls him closer by the chin to kiss him, deep and hungry. Something about knowing she’s tasting herself on his lips just makes the roped-up-cock situation even worse in all the right ways.

She must know it, too, because she slowly breaks the kiss to reveal that dark, conspiratorial glint in her eyes. A thrill runs down his spine. He knows that look all too well, and loves and fears it in equal measure.

“Very good. But I’m not nearly done with you yet.” She grips him by the twist of rope that loops around his throat toward his thighs and shins. As she pulls tight, Sam cries out, the knot resting right on his rim digging in. Her fingernails trail down, down, until she’s able to wrap her hand around his aching cock. “Now,” she says, “I wanna see how good you get.”

And Sam is all too happy to show her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [come to my tumblr](http://starandshield.tumblr.com), where i'm always dtcabb (down to cry about bucky barnes)


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